Stream of consciousness with a side of silly

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The mind is a beautiful, complex and multi-faceted thing; it can transform the humdrum everyday ordinary world that we live in to a place of mystery and intrigue, wizards and warlocks, magicians and Merlin. Simply by picking up a book and delving into the words, our minds bring forth every color, character and conversation in such a way as to make us feel as if we are truly living in the story. This is one of the things I love about the mind and as you can imagine (having such a beautiful mind as you do) that with every action there exists an equal and opposite reaction (shout out to Newton) and with every rose there is a thorn (shout out to Poison).

For every magical, fantastical and amazing journey I travel in my mind, there is an equal and opposite journey, which is disturbing, dark and often in a barren desert of desolation, shades of black and slate. It is a forest where trees of self-loathing and doubt grow tall, reaching for the sky, stretching upwards, blocking out the sun of self-worth and self-esteem. It’s the ocean of hurt caused by living a life built on mistakes and bad choices; the riptide always pulling me under, telling me to surrender, to quit and just let go. That’s the only way out of the pain, it lies with the skill of the Devil himself. It pours salt in those wounds, and the mind delivers memories that come as lightning bolts to my brain, branding the memory, embedding it forever to remember as another loss, another failure, another broken heart. Sometimes I feel as though I’m just an ant on leaf in a roaring river of white water, being swept away, holding on for dear life to the fragile grip I have. The emotions make me feel it, the mind makes me believe it. So, I have often wondered how much control do I actually have over this maniacal mind? I have struggled with my emotions for my entire life (as most people with a pulse have) and while I don’t believe I will ever “master” my emotions, I believe I have a better understanding of why feeling them is so necessary. Not allowing the painful memories to be remembered sets you up to forget the lesson that made it so painful, which sets you up to make the same mistake again and again. Not feeling the bad feelings by self-medicating or denial leads to addiction and a loss of connection to reality, a state of constant effort to suppress, forget and wish it into oblivion. If it sounds exhausting, it’s because it is. The truth shall set you free, yes, but as they say…this may hurt a bit.

Ok – so ramble, ramble. Sorry I think I got a touch off path. What all this is about is what happens after I fall down the rabbit hole of these thoughts, these emotions and the resulting isolation, depression and exhaustion. It’s not as extensive as the aftermath of a really good (bad) manic episode, but it has its own challenges; reconnecting with those you l love and who love me, hoping they will still be around and don’t take the time away personally. Rebuilding the self-esteem, the picture of me I carry around in my mind and validating changes that I need to make. The things I need to do to make my life more of what I need it to be and in time, the legacy I leave behind when I go wherever I will go (shout out St. Peter, with any luck). Time to get out of the rabbit hole and back into the world; open the blinds, let the light in and try, try again.